Girl, Be For Real: A Series Episode 6
- arailyuskingdom1
- May 24
- 2 min read
Let me be clear: this isn’t me bashing that man.
He was hilarious.
He could dress.
His music taste? Immaculate.
He knew all the brunch spots, complimented my outfits before I even posted them, and when he laughed, I laughed harder.
He was supportive, affirming, a little dramatic, smart, FYNNNE, a little too obsessed with his skincare routine, but overall fun as hell to be around.
Honestly? He gave bestie with a side of sex vibes.
And I ate it up. With two spoons, a face mask and a bonnet on.
We had inside jokes, playlists, matching robes.
It was like dating the male version of me, if I squinted hard enough and ignored the fact that he moaned during forehead kisses.
I wasn’t being held against my will.
I wasn’t manipulated.
I was a willing participant in the delusion, romanticizing behavior I would clown somebody else for tolerating.
And why?
Because I think I loved him.
Because he made me feel safe.
Because we laughed.
Because when it was good? It was good.
But at what cost?
The silence I kept. The moments I brushed off.
The parts of me that whispered “I’m not 100% he’s not into guys”… and the louder parts that yelled “girl shut up, he’s fine!”
So no, I’m not saying he was gay,
But something in his spirit gave “he don’t play my way.”
And maybe, that’s why, he wasn’t meant for me…
Because when he got mad, his vibes SCREAMED femininity.
I felt it. I knew it. I swallowed that doubt.
Held my breath, held him close, tried to figure it out.
And had we never ended? I might still be there,
Still calling it love… still mistaking it for care.
Still making excuses for the way that he spoke
Still spiritually starving, unequally yoked
Hell, Maybe his soulmate is actually a man
And I was just filler, not part of the plan
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